A small set back today: I did not get the group exercise (group X) instructor position I auditioned for last week at LSU's student gym, UREC. I thought it might not work out because the reaction to my audition seemed a bit tepid. Zumba is a very different kind of exercise class, and for those who have a background in group aerobics it can be a bit of a jolt. But, at the end of the day you either get it and you love it, or you don't and you walk away. I don't quite get how they didn't catch the excitement that comes through the music and the moves, but oh well. "Sorry Rory," as I like to say in my ever diminishing Canadian accent.
I must admit, though, I am pretty freakin' proud of myself. I passed the Zumba certification not even two weeks before I auditioned, and I managed to put together, memorize, and perform a thirty minute audition, having never done something like that before. I certainly learned a few things from the audition process that I'll be able to take on to my next one, and hopefully it will make me a stronger group X instructor in the end. I am a tad bummed that this particular gym didn't work out because I wanted to be the first one to bring Zumba to LSU, but the good news (I think?) is that I was the only one to try out for Zumba, so they won't introduce it quite yet and I still have a shot at getting a summer class.
On to the next gym in the meantime. I'm setting up interviews with Bally Total Fitness and Spectrum Fitness in town. I'm also meeting with a girl who teaches Zumba at the YMCA down the street from my house to see how she cues moves, and talk about the auditioning/interview process. I really only started this to teach at UREC, but I'm not going to let it stop me now that it hasn't worked out. This has developed into a stronger passion than even I could ever imagine.
Hopefully another gym will work out. Haha. Get it? Work out. Oh no, the puns have started.
November 9, 2009
"Hey Snakeface, You De Devil!"
I like to consider myself an informed consumer. While I would love love love to purchase only ethically or organically grown products, my wallet likes to remind me that that time is still a few years off. When I lived in Florida, however, I had the option to balance my conscience and my budget at Publix, the loveliest grocery store in all the land. Between the sales they offered, and the organic products, I was able to pick and choose what I wanted to care about that week AND save money.
Yet, since moving to Louisiana it's been a hard transition when it comes to grocery shopping. So much so that I now equate it with laundry on my list of things to do but hate. My choices are Walmart, Target, Albertson's, Winn-Dixie or expensive locally owned co-ops where the food is divine but crazy expensive. When I first moved here I shopped at Albertson's. I figured it was as close as I was going to get to Publix, but after a few weeks of high-end receipts, I decided to shift to Target. The savings improved slightly, but driving 15 minutes out of the way wasn't helping either, so last week I did my grocery shopping at Walmart for the first time ever. And let me tell you - the self-loathing was intense.
My weekly grocery list usually includes fruits, veggies for a salad, sandwich meat and cheese, and ingredients to make two meals, plus some various odds and ends for snacks or what have you. Such fare would cost me close to if not over $100 at Albertson's, but at Walmart? Under $60. That's a huge savings every week. But I can't figure out how to balance my wallet's new found freedom with the knowledge that I'm buying my food stuffs at a local-store-killing, soul-crushing, employee-abusing corporation.
I can reason it away by saying I will only do this for a few years until either I graduate, or my paychecks improve, because eventually I would like to reach a point where I'm splurging not on clothes or crap but groceries. Still, for the moment, I feel like a big bag of wrong whenever I walk through those sliding doors.
Yet, since moving to Louisiana it's been a hard transition when it comes to grocery shopping. So much so that I now equate it with laundry on my list of things to do but hate. My choices are Walmart, Target, Albertson's, Winn-Dixie or expensive locally owned co-ops where the food is divine but crazy expensive. When I first moved here I shopped at Albertson's. I figured it was as close as I was going to get to Publix, but after a few weeks of high-end receipts, I decided to shift to Target. The savings improved slightly, but driving 15 minutes out of the way wasn't helping either, so last week I did my grocery shopping at Walmart for the first time ever. And let me tell you - the self-loathing was intense.
My weekly grocery list usually includes fruits, veggies for a salad, sandwich meat and cheese, and ingredients to make two meals, plus some various odds and ends for snacks or what have you. Such fare would cost me close to if not over $100 at Albertson's, but at Walmart? Under $60. That's a huge savings every week. But I can't figure out how to balance my wallet's new found freedom with the knowledge that I'm buying my food stuffs at a local-store-killing, soul-crushing, employee-abusing corporation.
I can reason it away by saying I will only do this for a few years until either I graduate, or my paychecks improve, because eventually I would like to reach a point where I'm splurging not on clothes or crap but groceries. Still, for the moment, I feel like a big bag of wrong whenever I walk through those sliding doors.
November 5, 2009
A Beast in the Southeast
I'm a sweaty girl. The phrase doesn't seem to translate in the south where the women-folk are bred to be beautiful belles who would be horrified at such a thing. But honestly, having been born up north, I get a bit sweaty when the temperature starts to pass 70, when most people down here start reaching for a thin sweater. The thick Polish build doesn't help either, though. As my Mom says, we were made for hard labor in a field somewhere. I see it most often on those hot days or after a workout. I look around and other girls are misty at best, whereas it looks like someone spiteful threw a bucket of water on me.
Anyway. After my Zumba audition at the LSU student gym this afternoon, the two girls who participated with me in order to judge my teaching techniques asked me a few extra questions. I was panting slightly, and the sweat was clearly dripping down my face. One girl cocked her head to the side, "Umm, are there, like, any modifications that you could, like, make to the different movies? Because, like, that was, like, fun, but, like, I didn't even break a sweat."
Get out.
Anyway. After my Zumba audition at the LSU student gym this afternoon, the two girls who participated with me in order to judge my teaching techniques asked me a few extra questions. I was panting slightly, and the sweat was clearly dripping down my face. One girl cocked her head to the side, "Umm, are there, like, any modifications that you could, like, make to the different movies? Because, like, that was, like, fun, but, like, I didn't even break a sweat."
Get out.
The Seventh Beer
I wouldn't call it regret, for that would imply a giving up of sorts, and I'm not there yet. I hope never to be there, in fact. To reach a point where you no longer try let alone want to try would be incredibly sad, especially since the whole point of life is a series of trying.
I just can't even begin to explain how uncomfortable I am here, and how much I crave - physically crave - my home. And not home as in West Palm where Mom and Dad currently reside, but home home. Toronto. The Great White North. Where things might not be much better, but I would at least have family close by, and I would be in my city.
I got all dolled up last night. I played Otis Redding and curled my hair and did my makeup. I went out to a bar, had two beers and watched an hour's worth of the World Series. I smiled and laughed and oohed and aahed at various plays. I tried to make conversation with those around me, but apart from an older gentleman who kept sneezing into his beer and staring at me, I didn't get any attention. And the funny part is that I'm not even looking for romantic attention. I just want a fucking friend.
As the foam rings on my pint glass started to resemble those on a redwood stump, I paid my tab and made my way next door where Galactic was to play. It was pretty empty initially, so I stood around watching more of the World Series on one of the two TVs in the place. People drifted in - all groups. I saw this cute guy wearing a funny version of the Louisiana state seal, and went over to ask him where he got his shirt. He was very polite about it, but didn't try to turn it into a conversation so I wandered away. In the bathroom, I complimented a girl on her boots, but after a minute of fashion-talk she and her friend went back to their boyfriends. After a few more beers, I spotted State Seal Shirt again and decided to go introduce myself. After I had explained that I had just moved here and didn't know anyone, he started to open up. His name was Scott, his friends Dane and Howard. Very nice guys who had graduated this past year and were all living and working in New Orleans. The conversation was a bit stilted, and I got the impression that I was imposing so when the music started I moved away slightly to dance.
I can't tell what is the problem. Me? This city? The people? The timing? Some combination of all four? Yes, they were from out of town so of course no need to form lifelong bonds that night, but the unfriendliness factor blows me away. And, true, they were friendly but more in a polite, "Why does this chick keep talking to us?" kind of way. But besides them, I can't ever think of a time when I met someone and said, "I don't need you hanging around. My quota on friends is full up."
I'm not giving up. I am going to continue putting myself out there. But you better believe I'm going to do everything in my power to graduate in three years instead of four so I can hightail it back to Toronto. Not where everything will be perfect, but where I'll feel at home instead of utterly on my own.
I have to say, though. The life lessons I learned last night were invaluable.
1. You can only approach girls in the bathroom. If you try to talk to them in the bar area they think you're going after their men.
2. While you shouldn't lie, try to avoid telling men you're getting your PhD if they ask what you're doing in school. The intimidation factor is a buzzkill, and they will walk away like a gunshot.
I could have sworn there was another one, but that could have been the seventh beer instead of the third insight.
I just can't even begin to explain how uncomfortable I am here, and how much I crave - physically crave - my home. And not home as in West Palm where Mom and Dad currently reside, but home home. Toronto. The Great White North. Where things might not be much better, but I would at least have family close by, and I would be in my city.
I got all dolled up last night. I played Otis Redding and curled my hair and did my makeup. I went out to a bar, had two beers and watched an hour's worth of the World Series. I smiled and laughed and oohed and aahed at various plays. I tried to make conversation with those around me, but apart from an older gentleman who kept sneezing into his beer and staring at me, I didn't get any attention. And the funny part is that I'm not even looking for romantic attention. I just want a fucking friend.
As the foam rings on my pint glass started to resemble those on a redwood stump, I paid my tab and made my way next door where Galactic was to play. It was pretty empty initially, so I stood around watching more of the World Series on one of the two TVs in the place. People drifted in - all groups. I saw this cute guy wearing a funny version of the Louisiana state seal, and went over to ask him where he got his shirt. He was very polite about it, but didn't try to turn it into a conversation so I wandered away. In the bathroom, I complimented a girl on her boots, but after a minute of fashion-talk she and her friend went back to their boyfriends. After a few more beers, I spotted State Seal Shirt again and decided to go introduce myself. After I had explained that I had just moved here and didn't know anyone, he started to open up. His name was Scott, his friends Dane and Howard. Very nice guys who had graduated this past year and were all living and working in New Orleans. The conversation was a bit stilted, and I got the impression that I was imposing so when the music started I moved away slightly to dance.
I can't tell what is the problem. Me? This city? The people? The timing? Some combination of all four? Yes, they were from out of town so of course no need to form lifelong bonds that night, but the unfriendliness factor blows me away. And, true, they were friendly but more in a polite, "Why does this chick keep talking to us?" kind of way. But besides them, I can't ever think of a time when I met someone and said, "I don't need you hanging around. My quota on friends is full up."
I'm not giving up. I am going to continue putting myself out there. But you better believe I'm going to do everything in my power to graduate in three years instead of four so I can hightail it back to Toronto. Not where everything will be perfect, but where I'll feel at home instead of utterly on my own.
I have to say, though. The life lessons I learned last night were invaluable.
1. You can only approach girls in the bathroom. If you try to talk to them in the bar area they think you're going after their men.
2. While you shouldn't lie, try to avoid telling men you're getting your PhD if they ask what you're doing in school. The intimidation factor is a buzzkill, and they will walk away like a gunshot.
I could have sworn there was another one, but that could have been the seventh beer instead of the third insight.
November 1, 2009
Picky Picky
It's no surprise that I'm picky, but I wonder at what point it starts to become a big fat negative. Sure, I'm a chicken wing snob, and I can tell pretty quickly what music I do or don't like, but I think it hits home the most when it comes to boys. I'm not one of those girls who nitpicks over job, car, status, etc. but if there's no connection - no physical or mental spark - I don't see the point in pursuing anything. (For the most part) I can tell pretty quickly whether I have any chemistry with a guy, and I haven't felt anything truly striking in the last few years. I know a lot of girls who will date because they don't like being single, but I can't do that. And I used to think it was a good thing that I wasn't willing to settle for just any guy so I wouldn't be alone, but I'm not so sure anymore. I just always felt that I'd rather be on my own than with someone I feel tepid about. Of course whatever initial passion you feel can't remain at that level forever, but if you don't even feel that passion what's the point?
It's been on my mind a lot lately (although really what hasn't - I almost have too much time to think). I mentioned to a friend that there's a guy in my class who I've hung out with twice now, but I'm not physically attracted to him, and he comes off as more of a friend to me. She said to let it play out and see if anything builds, but I'm not sure that kind of thing develops over time. Yes, a connection can surely be strengthened, but if you are not initially attracted...can that come about later?
I'm willing to be more open minded, but I don't think it's asking too much for butterflies instead of compromise. In the meantime I'll just continue my search for the perfect chicken wing in Baton Rouge. It's an arduous quest, but someone has to do it.
It's been on my mind a lot lately (although really what hasn't - I almost have too much time to think). I mentioned to a friend that there's a guy in my class who I've hung out with twice now, but I'm not physically attracted to him, and he comes off as more of a friend to me. She said to let it play out and see if anything builds, but I'm not sure that kind of thing develops over time. Yes, a connection can surely be strengthened, but if you are not initially attracted...can that come about later?
I'm willing to be more open minded, but I don't think it's asking too much for butterflies instead of compromise. In the meantime I'll just continue my search for the perfect chicken wing in Baton Rouge. It's an arduous quest, but someone has to do it.
October 29, 2009
Facing the Music?
I've been feeling a tad bummed lately. It hit me today that with the way things have been going when it comes to making friends in Baton Rouge, I potentially face spending the rest of my 20s on my own. I've been lucky the past few weeks because I've had something to do on Friday, but generally I just watch football or movies by myself on the weekends. That only goes so far...
I know it took a long time to find friends in Tallahassee, but that was because I didn't realize there were other grad students my age who liked to go out. I've met all the grad students at LSU, and I have to say this whole MFA vs. PhD thing is starting to piss me off. The MFAs seem(ed) like a cool bunch, but they don't socialize with the PhDs. So, strike those potential friends from the proverbial record. It's pretty ridiculous.
I know eventually I'll get the drive to get back out there and find other ways to meet people - kickball league...book club...tequila lovers - but for now I am really tired of making the effort and having it thrown back in my face. The funny thing is, given the level of work the PhD requires, and my new fitness regimen, I don't go out that much anymore. All I want, though, is something to do once or twice a week. At least the option of it.
What I'm even more sick of is my friends telling me "It'll be okay. You just have to put yourself out there." Not one of them has stopped to simply listen to me. I start to tell them how things have been and they interject with cheerful pick-me-ups, which are nice to hear, but sometimes I just want to vent. Like how Galactic is coming to town next Wednesday, and no one wants to go with me. So, I'm going by myself, which I'm sure will be fun...but let's face it, who wants to do that for the next four years?
I have to hope eventually things will turn around, but at the moment it looks rather bleak. I never wanted to be 30 and single, but right now I don't want to be 29 and friendless.
I know it took a long time to find friends in Tallahassee, but that was because I didn't realize there were other grad students my age who liked to go out. I've met all the grad students at LSU, and I have to say this whole MFA vs. PhD thing is starting to piss me off. The MFAs seem(ed) like a cool bunch, but they don't socialize with the PhDs. So, strike those potential friends from the proverbial record. It's pretty ridiculous.
I know eventually I'll get the drive to get back out there and find other ways to meet people - kickball league...book club...tequila lovers - but for now I am really tired of making the effort and having it thrown back in my face. The funny thing is, given the level of work the PhD requires, and my new fitness regimen, I don't go out that much anymore. All I want, though, is something to do once or twice a week. At least the option of it.
What I'm even more sick of is my friends telling me "It'll be okay. You just have to put yourself out there." Not one of them has stopped to simply listen to me. I start to tell them how things have been and they interject with cheerful pick-me-ups, which are nice to hear, but sometimes I just want to vent. Like how Galactic is coming to town next Wednesday, and no one wants to go with me. So, I'm going by myself, which I'm sure will be fun...but let's face it, who wants to do that for the next four years?
I have to hope eventually things will turn around, but at the moment it looks rather bleak. I never wanted to be 30 and single, but right now I don't want to be 29 and friendless.
October 26, 2009
License to Dance
I don't have a background in dance, unless you count the few years my Mom had me in ballet and jazz classes as a little girl, but I've always loved to move to the music. I honestly can't help it - it's instinctual. So, when I set out to become a Zumba instructor, a part of me thought it would be fantastic to be able to dance and get paid (but not in the hooker way). It was only a notion, though. I didn't think it would happen, or at the very least not as quickly as it did. And yet, here I sit: a certified Zumba instructor.
The workshop was grueling. I love Zumba, but after a master class followed by five hours of practice my muscles were throwing a hissy fit. I don't even want to tell you about the morning after. Yet, even though I hadn't participated in a class for over three months, everything came back to me as soon as the music came on: salsa, samba, merengue, belly dancing, cumbia and reggaeton. The music came over the loud speaker and I could not get enough.
Since getting home I can't stop dancing. In addition to my morning workout, I spend about an hour a day working on my routines, and shaping my playlist. I also can't get over how strong and sexy I feel from just a few days. I can't wait to see what will happen over the next few months.
I have an interview with UREC (LSU's student gym) on Thursday, but I eventually want to take Zumba to other gyms in town. This started out as an inkling, then developed into a fun side project I could do while at LSU, but now I could really see this being another job for the rest of my life. University professor by day, hip-shaking, Latin dance/fitness instructor by night.
The cool part is that when I emailed the workshop leader to thank her and tell her about my goals to introduce Zumba to the students, she was so excited she offered to teach a master class with me when she swings through town in the spring. She's renowned in the Zumba world for her classes, and she's going to teach with me!
I'm just so excited. I feel like myself for the first time in a long time.
The workshop was grueling. I love Zumba, but after a master class followed by five hours of practice my muscles were throwing a hissy fit. I don't even want to tell you about the morning after. Yet, even though I hadn't participated in a class for over three months, everything came back to me as soon as the music came on: salsa, samba, merengue, belly dancing, cumbia and reggaeton. The music came over the loud speaker and I could not get enough.
Since getting home I can't stop dancing. In addition to my morning workout, I spend about an hour a day working on my routines, and shaping my playlist. I also can't get over how strong and sexy I feel from just a few days. I can't wait to see what will happen over the next few months.
I have an interview with UREC (LSU's student gym) on Thursday, but I eventually want to take Zumba to other gyms in town. This started out as an inkling, then developed into a fun side project I could do while at LSU, but now I could really see this being another job for the rest of my life. University professor by day, hip-shaking, Latin dance/fitness instructor by night.
The cool part is that when I emailed the workshop leader to thank her and tell her about my goals to introduce Zumba to the students, she was so excited she offered to teach a master class with me when she swings through town in the spring. She's renowned in the Zumba world for her classes, and she's going to teach with me!
I'm just so excited. I feel like myself for the first time in a long time.
October 21, 2009
Early Morning Revelations
You've got to love the promise a new day offers when you start it off screaming, "Take me there, Styx!"
October 19, 2009
Head Full. Pockets Empty.
My musical history has been something of a learning experience, to say the least. Even though I grew up with good music exposure thanks in part to my Dad, who would often play classics on his guitar or piano come weekends, I can't say I ever really cared too much for music. I can essentially sum up my past music taste in two words: greatest hits. I never took the time to listen to albums in their entirety, instead becoming fascinated with the few songs that peppered the top of the charts.
It wasn't until my junior year in college that I really started opening up musically by listening to bands who weren't currently on the Billboard Top 10. It all started with classic rock. I had always listened to The Beatles, but at age 20 I finally came to appreciate Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Rush, The Guess Who, and The Doors (to name a few). From there I took off. Always open to suggestions, I became a music melting pot, becoming equally taken with all types of sound - from jazz to rap to rock to you name it.
That passion transitioned to my coming into possession of a record player over a year ago, and since then my collection has taken off from seven records to over 150. I am a woman obsessed. I've managed to get my paws on most of my favorite "classic" albums - those are usually easier to find because they printed so many back in the day, but it's much harder to find a lot of reasonably priced albums from the late 1980s and on. Many artists are starting to release more of their stuff on vinyl, but only so much, and if you don't get it right away you are left searching Ebay, where the prices have at least tripled.
Bands like Rage Against the Machine, Pearl Jam and Mars Volta are all on vinyl, but since so many of their albums came out years ago the price is outrageous. An average Pearl Jam album goes for about $50 now, with Rage in the $150 mark. I'm currently hung-up on looking for De-Loused in the Comatorium - my favorite from Mars Volta - but the cheapest one I've found is $106 on Amazon's vinyl site. $106! And the album hasn't even been out for ten years.
I can't bring myself to spend more than $30 on an album, which is even on the pricey side for many used ones, so for now I have to wait and see if either the bands release more prints, or someone on Ebay needs the money that they'll lower the price. It certainly costs to be a fan of music. Or rather, I should say vinyl. But hot damn if it isn't just a beautiful sound.
It wasn't until my junior year in college that I really started opening up musically by listening to bands who weren't currently on the Billboard Top 10. It all started with classic rock. I had always listened to The Beatles, but at age 20 I finally came to appreciate Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Rush, The Guess Who, and The Doors (to name a few). From there I took off. Always open to suggestions, I became a music melting pot, becoming equally taken with all types of sound - from jazz to rap to rock to you name it.
That passion transitioned to my coming into possession of a record player over a year ago, and since then my collection has taken off from seven records to over 150. I am a woman obsessed. I've managed to get my paws on most of my favorite "classic" albums - those are usually easier to find because they printed so many back in the day, but it's much harder to find a lot of reasonably priced albums from the late 1980s and on. Many artists are starting to release more of their stuff on vinyl, but only so much, and if you don't get it right away you are left searching Ebay, where the prices have at least tripled.
Bands like Rage Against the Machine, Pearl Jam and Mars Volta are all on vinyl, but since so many of their albums came out years ago the price is outrageous. An average Pearl Jam album goes for about $50 now, with Rage in the $150 mark. I'm currently hung-up on looking for De-Loused in the Comatorium - my favorite from Mars Volta - but the cheapest one I've found is $106 on Amazon's vinyl site. $106! And the album hasn't even been out for ten years.
I can't bring myself to spend more than $30 on an album, which is even on the pricey side for many used ones, so for now I have to wait and see if either the bands release more prints, or someone on Ebay needs the money that they'll lower the price. It certainly costs to be a fan of music. Or rather, I should say vinyl. But hot damn if it isn't just a beautiful sound.
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